


Cold

by Jaakkola



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pining, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: "I'm dying, aren't I?" Flynn asked.Shaw was silent for a moment. "You've been poisoned.""That's not an answer."Shaw didn't respond.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> After writing GTA AUs for years, I kinda forgot how to come with plots that don't end bloody. But I love fairshaw so much that I bought bfa so here I am.

Flynn was jerked back awake by a, "Stay with me, Fairwind." Details struggled to come back into focus. He was cold, there was a dull ache in his side where his hand was firmly pressing, and he was walking. Someone was helping him walk, supporting his weight as he took unsteady steps. Shaw, it was Shaw who was helping him. He must have said that, then.

"I'm awake," Flynn assured, but he didn't sound entirely there, even to his own ears. Saying that made him realize just how tired he was.

"Good, just stay awake with me," Shaw said. He had a firm grip on Flynn, holding onto the other side of him as Flynn had an arm around Shaw's shoulders. He felt hot next to Flynn, a welcome warmth as he shivered. He was sweating, Flynn realized rather belatedly. Why did he feel so cold?

One of Flynn's ankles rolled underneath him, making his leg buckle with a flash of searing pain from his side. His vision went spotty for a moment and he let out a pained hiss. It was only because of Shaw's grip on him that Flynn didn't hit the ground from the loss of balance.

"Keep moving, Fairwind," Shaw coaxed, "I got you."

Flynn eventually remembered how to move his legs, and started walking again, his feet barely lifting off the ground. Shaw challenged Flynn with a faster pace, and Flynn did his damnedest to match it, but Flynn's constant stumbling convinced Shaw to ease up. The going was slow because of Flynn. He wondered how much that frustrated the Spymaster.

Flynn's startled when his chin hit his chest, surprising the pirate back into trying to focus on what's going on. The air was hot and sticky with humidity, but Flynn can't recall ever feeling colder in his life. His eyes search for something to focus on, looking over large canopy trees with vines that hung off them. How long had they been in the Zandalar jungle? And why was he so out of it? He wasn't drunk, was he?

"I'm sorry, Flynn," Shaw said, and it felt as if Flynn was just pushed into a freezing lake before daybreak.

"Did you just apologize to me?" Flynn asked, shock evident in his voice.

"I did," Shaw gave a slight nod.

The heavy haze that had been clouding Flynn's mind had been lifted for a moment. He remembered what led the two of them to this: bad intel and an ambush from forsaken deathstalkers. Flynn looked down to his side and removed his hand, revealing a ghastly wound underneath it. His hands were covered in something— it had to be blood— something so dark it was nearly black. The wound was no better, the skin around it blackening like rot as it dripped with sickly blood.

Nausea and lightheadedness hit Flynn like a wave as he examined the wound, deciding to cover it with his hand again and hope it went away while they walk. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Flynn asked.

Shaw was silent for a moment. "You've been poisoned."

"That's not an answer."

Shaw didn't respond.

"I don't want to die, Shaw." Flynn meant that to come out more jokingly, but there was an evident presence of despair in his words.

"There's a healer at the camp, we just need to get there," Shaw explained.

Flynn's fingers and toes went numb. He shivered once again as fatigue returned, and with a vengeance.

"I should have known that the information was just a trap." Shaw stopped for a moment, shifted Flynn's position against him, and started walking once again.

"This was a... a real kick your pride, huh?" Flynn asked as he struggled to keep in pace, finding himself getting increasingly out of breath as the pain in his side worsened.

"Something like that," Shaw said, surprising the pirate.

"Funny; I always thought of you as a real humble guy."

Shaw didn't dignify Flynn's comment with a response, letting a moment of silence grow around the two. Everything in Flynn's body ached, sore and tired. He was fighting a losing battle against his exhaustion, and it was evident he was losing, his steps turning into his feet dragging across the ground and his body sagging against Shaw's. Flynn was freezing, despite the oppressive humidity that suffocated the air and the sweat that poured from him.

And to go with it all, Flynn was getting dangerously lightheaded, briefly reminding him of his childhood. "I need to stop," Flynn rasped between shallow breaths.

"We need to keep moving," Shaw challenged.

"Mate," Flynn started, and he wasn't entirely sure if he ever finished his sentence. The next thing he remembered was being hauled to his feet by Shaw, having somehow found his way to the ground. Flynn braced himself against Shaw as he tried to fight back against the lightheaded feeling, his breathing coming in quick fits.

"Let's keep moving, Fairwind," Shaw said, "it's not much further." Flynn didn't know if he could take another step, it felt as if they walked an eternity out here. Before he could get an argument out, Shaw had Flynn's free arm wrapped around him again, and he was holding onto Flynn with an iron tight grip.

"Why do you care, anyway?" Flynn forced out once Shaw managed to silently coax him into moving again, even if it was an abysmal pace. "It's like you," Flynn took a breath, "like you always say, we're expendable."

Shaw was once again silent, frustrating Flynn. Flynn looked over to him, seeing a look of determination breaking through the carefully practiced neutral expression. The fringes of his now messied hair stuck to his head, soaked with sweat. Flynn doesn't remember the last time he saw Shaw look this disheveled. It was probably the first time, in actuality. He studied Shaw's expression as he thought. Flynn was essentially dead weight, and Shaw was dragging him along, despite the growing odds of death as Flynn lost more and more blood.

Flynn's eyes widened in realization, one that was a miracle he came to, considering the circumstances. "You care about me, don't you?" Shaw's expression faltered, if just for a moment before it was forced back to a neutral one. That's all an answer Flynn needed. "And here I thought, you were," Flynn took another shallow breath, "unaffected by my charm."

"You are an asset to the Alliance," Shaw corrected rather unconvincingly, "nothing more."

"Don't think assets are expendable, mate."

Shaw let out a frustrated sigh, but Flynn didn't say anything else. Maybe Flynn read this entirely wrong in his groggy state and was just projecting his feelings, and Shaw just didn't want to spend the time to find a new captain to lead the island expeditions. Perhaps he just would feel bad if this ambush had a death count, and felt obligated to help Flynn. Maybe Shaw really did care about him.

As Flynn's eyes fell shut, he realized he probably won't ever know the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written fanfiction in a while, but there's nearly nothing in the fairshaw tag so I had fix that. Maybe I'll make more.


End file.
